


The Chain

by sad_mad_rad



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: "How They Met" Kinda Story, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:15:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_mad_rad/pseuds/sad_mad_rad
Summary: Kraglin Obfonteri. First Mate of his Captain, his personal puppy and a cure from the past. How've they came to this?





	The Chain

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [The Chain](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/312978) by lilyfrosted. 



Stars are too bright tonight. So bright as if they want to inform everything and everyone about someone else's happiness bathing bloodied bodies under them in the calm and cold beauty. Ex-friends, enemies, just living beings. There is never any difference when on someone's neck falls a label with big black letters on it.

Contract.

Of course, being one of fearsome Ravagers never was a livelong holiday. It was a difficult and dirty job where your face, your status, was one of the most important things, even if it required you to play a role of a misfit in truly galactical scale. In most cases people didn't even have to pretend too shaken by a dance of blazing units. Kraglin didn't mind – no responsibility in front anyone, but his own crew, beautiful women and a whole bunch lucky bastards to hang out with.

Freedom.

Open roads of deep space that has no laws apart for their sacred code. Steal whatever you want, fuck whoever you want. Take what you can and may fortune be on your side. Well, maybe none of them actually even believed in that word, «fate», and never raised eyes to the skies in silent «thank you», but each one of them had something he wanted to believe to. And so did Kraglin, he had something he wanted to believe more than his own thoughts. The path that was one and only right, the path that allowed him to follow The Captain. His Captain.

And although being someone's dog was basically a death sentence, – at least as the streets of his colonized homeplanet taught him, – being a one for Yondu Udonta is a different kind of game. A game of freedom that he absolutely enjoyed.

***

Cleaning a one of his precious knives, Kraglin often allowed himself to drift deeper in his own mind, as far that only a furious roar of The Captain could bring him back. And although First Mate didn't like any of his own memories, not even a bit, he couldn't stop himself from recalling his way to redemption over and over again. Everything else is just like frames in some old movie that bring nothing but a wish to vomit.

Here he is, a boy again in familiar red lights district, with his mouth tasting metal after a punishment for talking back to a client. Since a moment of entering this murky world of maggoty luxury and muffled screams by someone else's not so goodwill, he never complained. To be weak in front of someone who'll be happy to press your face further in the mud and kick you with a sharp heel as a goodbye? He was a child, not a fool.

Food was good. Jingle of units pleasantly warmed his being. Getting used to living by laws on the place wasn't hard after Kraglin's fear fainted and opened a new door in front of the young man. Time passed. No surprise that thoughts about staying a hooker for local outcast in this rotten shithole for the rest of his life (or as long as they find him to be cute enough) started to strangle him as if someone gently wrapped their strong hands around his thin throat and locked his lips in silent scream. Yeah, of course, Kraglin's new way of live wasn't much better than being another local whore, but it's still something.

Knives, guns and everlasting coldness in his almost colorless eyes.

Violence's always well-paid, also this type of job appealed young Kraglin much more than waging his tail in front of nasty old men in nice suits.

Shame? Pain?

No.

Disgust, more likely. Sometimes that feeling, mixed with anger towards himself and his own helplessness, choked the delicate throat so hard that Kraglin wanted to put a crazy bullet in his own head. To scrub away sticky touches that covered his soul and body in burning layers of decay and rust. To peel off the skin from lanky body so he can never see marks of strangers' kisses. Dirt. Dirt, but there was no way out. He, like a caged animal, didn't have one.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

Attempts to wash away this burden of desperation, to find the cure with deaths of others, sick and unlucky, didn't give any results. He left so much behind his back that even sounds of his own name slowly blended in with everything else, leaving his mind one to one with the demons. Completely alone. Again.

That's how it was. Every time when filthy smog started to boil getting in his eyes and clouding the world, Kraglin's hands reached for the knife as he let his feet to take him away. Somewhere. A place where he could, one more time, drown in the crimson symphony and feel his consciousness sink in that desirable bliss.

Red. He definitely liked red. Red used to save him.

There wasn't such drug that could give the same sense of devouring power that came with a feeling of still warm blood washing all over Kraglin's face, its' heavy velvet touch on his skin. His own narcotic that should've helped his hurt soul.

That night stars were bright too. It supposed to be just another hunt after one of newcomers criminals with that Kraglin hoped to please himself. And his clients, of course. Just a usual round up, nothing serious or special. At least it was until he felt steel hands crashing his windpipe. In that moment he finally got how much he overreached himself this time. Overreached like a capricious child screaming for his favorite toy.

His air intake was slowly coming to the end while sharp-toothed smirk of his opponent became only wider.

"Lost somethin', pup?"

The pup groaned and spat his most venomous words as he watched that red coat open with a quiet rustling that was like a sharp dagger for Krgalin's ears. And then this devilish whistling, summoning a deadly arrow from its' sleep and sending waves of chill run down the spine. Kraglin's whole world decreased to one small point that tingled in his ears with a sound of growling blood.

Eyes.

These red eyes, full of blood with eyes, the eyes without purpose or light. Nothing, only frozen disinterest and emptiness. Just like his own.

The hands eased the grip, but Kraglin's jaw still had to meet a hard punch that temporarily knocked him out of his senses. Taste of metal immediately left its' familiar kiss on his lips as sharp pain made him slowly sink on cold dirtiness of concrete.

Nothing but these eyes, so sharp they could kill. Nothing could heal Kraglin better, not even screams and cries for mercy.

And then he understood that he's done. He just disappeared, melted in that vicious pit with no way back. If Kraglin'll ever be someone's dog he'll be his, if Kraglin'll ever follow anyone it'll be him, and whole world can go and choke on its' own bile. He'll find his way out, and maybe the key to it was right in front of him.

***

Obfonteri woke up from the stupor long after midnight, never stopping to clean that poor blade. He must've gone soft. He surely did, these thoughts took too much place in his damned head, but he still can't get rid of them. Does he need to, on the other hand? That's his life, after all. Kraglin's legacy is nothing but his own rotten past, that’s true, but here is nothing he can really do about that. It's not something that can be changed or cured by leading a small life of a family man who sits on his as and sips tea on some quiet planet far-far away.

At least Kraglin knows that he needs. This is a special need that became much more important than taking another breath. So he gets up and steps on a path he was on many times before, the one that always leads to the place where he's helped to forget. His exact path to the freedom he searched so long for, that's he finally reached. Could he ever imagine that his freedom is in angry snarling captain of space marauders capable on destroying everything while closing eyes on his own deep pain? Fuck no, but life loves to test its' children.

And as long as Yondu'll keep to hungrily drilling in his body and smirk knowingly as he looks down on his the most loyal dog, Kraglin'll keep breathe deeply, melting once again in the smell of blood with ice. In the smell of his beloved Captain who, in return, finds his own comfort in Kraglin. Someone could say that their duo is just an evil joke, but they know that this red thread won't ever be broken.

**Author's Note:**

> What's it with Russian fandom and prostitute!Kraglin? I don't know.


End file.
